


Choir Full of Longing

by astalavista



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-31
Updated: 2011-05-31
Packaged: 2017-10-19 22:58:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/206133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astalavista/pseuds/astalavista
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aveline failed to woo Donnic, and is now alone, focusing only on her guard force. She comes seeking Isabela's aid in capturing unsavory criminals, and learns some hard truths about herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This story is dedicated to my friend Heath Wingwhit over at ff.net, who likes to challenge me. To make me step out of my Merrill comfort zone, she asked me to write Aveline x Isabela. It certainly was a challenge.

“Are you never going home? Where do you even live?” Aveline looked up sharply from her paperwork when she heard a voice from the door. It was very late, the only light in her office coming from two candles on her desk. But she would have known that teasing, always amused-sounding voice anywhere.

She put her quill down and turned her head towards the door. “ I won’t ask how you managed to enter the Viscount’s Keep this late at night, or I would have to arrest you on the spot. Close the door, please. You might wake some of the guards in the barracks. They need their sleep.”

“Ah, so it is true. You are their prissy mother, of every single guard in Kirkwall. How smothering.” The door was not closed gently, it was kicked and fell into the lock loudly. It made Aveline scowl sternly as she watched Isabela saunter across the room. The Rivaini picked a chair, carried it over to Aveline’s desk and sat down facing the guard captain with her hands on the arms of the chair. “Such comfy chairs. I bet one could get bent over one of those in comfort. You should try it.”

Aveline’s brow was furrowed. As much as she tried, she never was at ease with Isabela. She unsettled her. For her, she was the antithesis to her own personality. She had learned to adjust to Isabela’s presence, because Hawke was exceptionally fond of her. She put out, so everyone loved her, of course. Aveline leaned forward, her green eyes boring into Isabela’s. “Explain yourself. What is true? And don’t start talking about the chairs in that way, whore.”

“Well, you know, I spend a lot of time at the Rose, and I hear things. There are so many templars and guards there, looking for a good time, can’t blame them.” Isabela produced a hip flask from her belt and took a sip. “You should have some of this, helps you relax. I’ll even share, big girl.”

Aveline denied this with a vehement shake of her head, waiting for the rest of the story. Isabela wiped her lips with the back of her hand, then smiled. “Sometimes they might just mention that you are too attentive, too focused, too smothering. They don’t understand.” The pirate rested her chin on her hands, lacing her fingers underneath it. “How would they know you have nothing else in life?”

Aveline’s eyes widened and she rose. “Why, why do you seek me out to insult me? Is it that much fun to you? Come on, get out. I have important work to do.” She moved towards Isabela and looked ready to grab her by the scruff of her neck and carry her out.

“What could possibly be important this time of night. Tell me it’s not just to cover up that you’re lonely.” Isabela took another sip of rum from her hip flask, and looked completely unwilling to move. “I just...want to say I feel sorry for you that Hawke ducked out of helping you with Donnic. It would have done you a world full of good.”

Aveline’s gaze was murderous, as she whirled around turning her back to the Rivaini. “Why are you not leaving? I don’t want to hear this, I don’t want to talk about this, and the least of all with you of all people.”

Isabela snorted and shrugged. “Why not with me? Who better to give you advice? I mean, I could have had your Donnic ages ago, he’s at the Rose sometimes, but I never did. Out of respect for you.” She idly tapped a foot, staring intently at Aveline’s broad back.

Aveline’s voice sounded pressed, barely making it past her teeth. “He’s not my Donnic, and you can do whatever you want, like the slattern that you are.” It had been a couple months, and it still hurt. Things between Aveline and Donnic were more than awkward, at least on her side. He was mostly oblivious, because he still believed that it was Hawke who fell in love with him. The rather blunt Hawke had been completely unwilling to further participate in any charades after the disaster at the Hanged Man.

Isabela whisked the rum around in the hip flask, always smiling. “He’s not my type. I like my men loud and ballsy, not silent and strong. Not flashy enough.” She tilts her head. “Did you really never dare declare yourself for him? Would it have been so hard? Men like it when a woman knows what she wants. Most men at least.”

“You don’t understand. I am not like you. I have no interest in being like you. We have different views of the world. You lie and steal and cheat and whore. I protect Kirkwall from the likes of you.” Aveline walked towards Isabela and snatched the flask from her hand, then took a long sip.

She coughed as the heat of the rum hit her throat and handed the flask back, listening to Isabela’s laugh. It was a delightful laugh, with just a hint of throatiness, and for a fleeting moment, Aveline felt she understood why men and women alike threw themselves at the pirate. A very fleeting moment. “I am wasting my time here. You are wasting my time. Why are you even here?”

Isabela crossed her tanned legs and mused with a smile. “I was in the area. I had a feeling you would be here, and if you hadn’t been, strolling around the Viscount’s Keep might have been so much fun. But really, I counted on you being here. Big girl, I mean you no harm. It pained me to hear you have been that lonely. I am sure you have heard me say that my affairs only go skin-deep, but that’s better than having none.” She leaned forward, looking up at Aveline with a curious gaze. “Don’t you ever wake up in the middle of the night, from an intense dream, and just wish there was someone to fill that void? Take your mind off this shithole of a place? Someone to give you what you deserve, and even what you don’t? How do you handle being lonely?”

Aveline turned around, craning her neck to look at the long rows of the bookshelves behind her desk. One hand idly tugged at her striped scarf. “I don’t have time for such idle thoughts. Duty binds me, more surely than anything. I don’t have time to be lonely. I must serve and protect.” Her hands were on her back now, and her eyes closed. Surely she would be able to convince a woman like Isabela that she was just that strong.

“Bullshit. You can play ball-crusher by day and night out there as guard-captain, but I know better. You’re just a woman. Like me, or Hawke, or even Merrill. All of us have needs, hopes, desires. No one is just about duty. It will leave you shriveled like a prune if that’s all that is there. I bet even Knight-Commander Meredith has some hidden passion. You think she and the first enchanter...” Isabela laughed at the horrified expression on Aveline’s face when the red-head whirled around to face her. “I bet that would make a fine book. I should speak to Varric.” She held out the flask again, and Aveline drank, without hesitation.

“I don’t need no books, and you need not worry about me shriveling. What am I to you anyhow?” Aveline glared, her heckles raised. “I don’t need your insights, your opinion about me, Isabela. I will arrest you for breaking into the Keep, Maker help me, if you don’t leave.”

The pirate did not seem scared of this. “Oh, I have no doubt you would. But remember. If I really wanted to, I could help you with Donnic. Or any other man. Or there are other options.” She quickly moved to pick up one of Aveline’s strong hands. “You do have such strong hands, they would feel good on skin.” She blew a kiss on the inside of Aveline’s wrist, where the pulse was beating hard.

Aveline curled her hand into a fist and punched, but the pirate was fast and a skilled duelist, escaping gracefully. “Go think about it, Aveline. And keep the rum.” She laughed and dashed outside, leaving as quietly as she had arrived.

Aveline was full of anger, righteous anger. “That whore!” She covered her wrist with her other hand, feeling her pulse race. Her freckled face was flushed.

If she was honest with herself, she would admit to it that she was overwhelmingly lonely. If she was truthful, she would admit to still pining for Donnic, even though he never gave her a second glance. If she really looked into herself, she would admit that Isabela’s brief kiss to her wrist had flushed her body with desire.

But Aveline was not honest with herself. She could only be honest for Kirkwall and duty, and her friends. Never herself.  


* * *

The training yard rang with the sounds of swords. Aveline’s booming voice was stern yet encouraging, as she personally oversaw the drills of the new guard recruits. Isabela leaned against a wall and watched the practice with a yawn. She wasn’t really up and about this early usually, but had made an exception this day. For whatever reason, Aveline had requested her presence, which was something that never happened. “Now that’s some fine meat right there,” she admired some of recruits, murmuring to herself.

When Aveline joined Isabela she smelled of fresh sweat and hard work. She tucked a ginger strand of hair back underneath her headband. “I didn’t think you’d be coming this early. Did they pull you off some sod or what happened? Chased out by a wife? Kicked out?”

Isabela winked and saucily added “I come anytime I want, however many times I want to. But I think you weren’t talking about that, were you?” Watching Aveline roll her eyes always felt like winning to her. “What did you want to talk to me about? I think the last time I saw you, you kicked me out.”

Aveline locked gazes with the pirate, shaking her head after a moment. She was the one to turn away first. “You deserved that. But I need your help now.”

Isabela looked incredulous, her eyes wide, and she laughed. “Is my name Saint Hawke, savior and protector of the innocent? Since when am I considered a help to the city guard of Kirkwall?” Aveline’s glare totally made the jibes worth it. “Only if you make me play innocent maiden getting rescued by a guard. Like Donnic. He could ravish me, and I’d let you watch. How about that?”

Aveline looked ready to punch her. “I swear by the Maker, Isabela, if you don’t shut your filthy mouth, I’ll shut it for you. I don’t know why I thought you’d help me, but here I am, being ripped apart with your filth, when all I had hoped for was some bloody assistance. You stupid whore.”

The pirate crossed her arms in front of her ample bosom and looked smug. “Got you riled up, didn’t I? Still hurts, doesn’t it? But as I like my teeth, bring it on. Just spit it out what you need me for, and I’ll consider.”

Aveline snorted and threw her hands in the air in frustration. “I might as well tell you. I need a late breakfast and some water, let’s head to the barracks.”  


* * *

Isabela felt oddly vulnerable sitting on one of the hard benches of the barracks. The room was full of city guards in full armor, and she was the lone exception. It was relatively quiet, people were eating their breakfast and talking about their duty roster. It did not seem right to her for a second to be mingling with guards. She idly poked the bowl of porridge in front of her and then looked up at Aveline. “No beer, huh? I don’t think I can eat this early.”

Aveline had no issues with her porridge and wolfed it down as if it was her last meal. Hard to believe she had Orlesian roots. “You can have water, and that’s it. I won’t have my guards intoxicated, they can do this later, off-duty.”

“Alright, spit it out. I am bored already, Aveline, and you know I hate being bored.” Isabela looked around, her eyes settling on a particularly beefy hunk of guard. “He looks nice. I could make him squeal.” She pursed her lips thoughtfully.

This earned her a smack from Aveline, and not a gentle one. “Stop doing that. Within this room, within the barracks, it is about duty to Kirkwall, and I won’t let you mess with that. Now listen up, so that we can end this farce, and you can head off to commit misdeeds, and I can keep my sanity.” The guard-captain ate a final spoon of porridge before pushing the bowl away.  
“We have received the information that a particularly vicious band of slavers is operating in Kirkwall. They seem to have excellent dock-side contacts. They seem mostly interested in young women, but also younger men. They seem to prey on those who are desperate enough to grasp for straws.” Aveline’s gaze was hard as she stared at a now serious Isabela. “They lure them with false promises and then sell them off to Tevinter and Orlais. They prefer elves, and many are desperate enough, but you don’t need an elf if you are looking to sell a young girl into a whorehouse. Any girl will do. They smuggle them off to the Wounded Coast and they get loaded into ships from there.”

Isabela’s hand around her mug of water was white-knuckled. “Why are you telling me this, Aveline?” She rolled her shoulders and seemed more tense than the guard-captain had ever seen her.

Aveline idly adjusted her scarf and then leaned forward, half across the table, towards the pirate. “I have seen you, Isabela. It’s been a couple years now. I have seen you with the likes of Kelder. I have seen how viciously you respond to slavers. I don’t know your agenda, but I am 100% sure that you understand why I don’t want to see these girls lose their freedom, and their virginity to disgusting scum of Thedas like that. I call you a whore, but you choose to be one. These girls don’t.”

Isabela averted Aveline’s gaze this time, as she actually downed some water. She made a face at the bland taste, but it might also have been the conversation. “Why are you telling me and not Fenris? Wouldn’t you think he’d fight the slavers with more fervor than I ever would?”

The red-head shook her head. “I contemplated it, but he would just go on a murderous spree. You cannot reason with him. He’s bitter and brooding. He’s a formidable fighter. I want to stop this whole thing at the source. And that’s somewhere on the docks in Kirkwall. Or maybe somewhere else in Kirkwall. You have contacts. I am asking you.”

Looking uncomfortable still, Isabela questioningly looked at the guard-captain. “This is not some ruse to have me sell out some of the people I have worked with over the years, yes? Because if it was, that would be a disgusting story to tell me, Aveline.” She rose, leaning down towards Aveline. “I resent that you ask me. I dislike that you read me in such a way.” She stood straight, with a hand on her hips. “But I resent them even more. I’ll start keeping my eyes and ears open. Hanged Man, tomorrow night, we’ll talk. I will want payment, and I will want to work with you, and only you. You will be even more sick and tired of me than you usually are, prig, but we’ll take them out.”

As she turned and left, Aveline watched her go. She almost smiled at her, gratified, for actually, once having understood some of what drove Isabela.

* * *

Isabela on the other hand was seething. She headed straight for the Hanged Man, flagging down the barkeep, and started drinking. An hour later, she had finally relaxed to a certain degree that she was willing to respond to lewd catcalls and gropes that she received as she stood there. Varric made his way into the common room and walked up to her. “Rivaini. You are drinking early today. And here I was just thinking about breaking my fast. But you look like you have a tale to tell.”

The pirate shook her head. “No, I don’t have anything right now. Have you ever been grabbed by the balls and crushed, from the person you expected it the least?” Varric looked up at her quietly, his clever face and his brown eyes occupied with thought.

“Can’t say I have,” he finally stated. “I always knew Bartrand was a bastard, so I expected something. Not that it didn’t feel ballcrushing anyhow when he did his move in the Deep Roads.” The anger and rage at this betrayal were close to the surface, even after all that time. “But I can’t imagine anyone having you by the balls, because you have the biggest ones I know. Well, maybe Hawke’s are bigger, but you know what I mean.”

Isabela laughed, shaking her head. “I swear, I wish you were more interested in humans, Varric. The things I would be able to show you and Bianca. You are such a flatterer. You know, eventually this might be a story worth sharing, but for now, I will need to sort this out on my own.” She leaned down to kiss the dwarf’s cheek. “I have a feeling this coming week will be different. I’ll keep you posted.”

As she departed the Hanged Man, Varric couldn’t help but wonder about the serious expression in her eyes. The Rivaini was brooding, and that rarely ever happened.


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn’t without reservation that Aveline ascended the stairs towards the rooms in the Hanged Man this night. The door to Varric’s large suite was closed. Another door next to it was ajar, and the guard-captain made a face at the sounds coming from it. They made her extremely uncomfortable. Not really better than a Lowtown back alley. Whores were plying their trade everywhere these days.

Isabela’s door was closed however. Aveline politely knocked on the door and waited for the inhabitant of the room to call her inside. The door opened after a moment, and a bronzed arm snaked out to pull Aveline inside. The red-head’s gut reaction was to push the hand away forcefully, but Isabela was surprisingly strong as she pushed the guard’s back against the now-closed door. “I had no idea you felt about me this way, Aveline, that you would come seek me out like this. Have your way with me!” She laughed delightedly at Aveline’s horrified expression and stepped away.

“Don’t worry. I was just kidding. For now. Welcome to my home.” Isabela made a sweeping gesture and bowed. It wasn’t really much of a home, all things considered. Cheap furniture, a large bed, a dresser. Even Merrill probably had more luxuries in her house in the alienage than Isabela had here. At least the Hanged Man’s roof had no leaks. The pirate herself looked rather different this evening. She wore no bandana and her hair was loosely falling into her face and spilling over her shoulders. Her lip stud was missing as well, and she was clad in a very old-fashioned dress of all things. It was grey and completely unadorned, with an apron. She looked almost matronly in it, even though the alluring curves of her body would probably look good in a linen sack. She was completely bare of any jewelry.

“I only just got back from the docks, Aveline. And you can stop being so speechless and slack-jawed. With a jaw as square as yours, it’s a scary expression to have.” Isabela sprawled out on her bed, pulling up the hem of her dress considerably for more comfort. Or maybe she just wanted to make Aveline uncomfortable. Whatever, both probably were a success.

Aveline took a deep breath and pushed herself away from the door. “I didn’t expect to be pulled in here, and I did not expect you to look so...normal. It’s good to know that even a slut can do something with herself.” Isabela snorted at this and reached for her lip stud that she had kept on the bedside table.

“Maybe one of these days we’ll sort out what to do about your prissy looks. Maybe then you’ll even get laid. I tell you, it would do you a world full of good.” Isabela finished putting her stud back in and stretched out lazily. “I am beat, Aveline. You better appreciate all the legwork I have done today. I didn’t want to be caught snooping, so I had to dress up a bit. As Lowtown wench selling pastries to workers on the docks. So much eye candy, you wouldn’t believe it.” She rolled over on her side, her eyes following Aveline’s inspection of her room.

The guard-captain studied every nook, every cranny of the room, shaking her head in confusion. “I really thought that your room would be a bit flashier. Like you. But you don’t waste much time here, do you?” She finally sat down, looking at Isabela. “Were you able to find out anything? About how they’re organized?”

Isabela picked at some lint on one of her threadbare sheets on the bed. “Just heard a lot of talk. Most dock workers know that there’s some coin in for them if they point at some guy in Lowtown. Name’s Yuvar. A marcher from Starkhaven, it is said. All he is looking for are cheap laborers, they say, so there are a lot of young Fereldans heading his way.” Her brown eyes were hard as she stared at Aveline. “How is it possible that I can spend a couple hours on the docks selling pastries, and already find the fuck who’s doing the slave selling? Surely you knew this much already?”

Aveline’s jaw set squarely and she pushed her chin forward. “Yes, I have heard this name before, but he is squeaky clean. Works as a gardener for one of the noble families in Hightown. Devout, goes to the chantry when he can, and you never see him hang out with anyone unsavory whatsoever. He doesn’t even frequent the Hanged Man for all that I can tell. We got nothing on him. I need more than just dock workers wagging their tongues about the coin he supposedly throws at them.”

The Rivaini pushed herself out of bed and opened her dresser to retrieve her white corset and a clean bandana. “What do you want me to do? Sell Kitten off to him to see where he takes her, catch them in the act?” She looked over her shoulder with a sardonic smile that was wiped off her face when she looked at Aveline. “Fuck you, you thought about it.” She tossed the corset onto the bed and then moved to grab the guard by the shoulders. “I swear, if you even think about that, I’ll stab you in the eye. They would break her, and besides, she wouldn’t be able to even understand any plan and not ruin it. Leave her the fuck out of it.”

Aveline rose and shook Isabela off. “I didn’t ask her, I asked you, didn’t I? Yes, of course smuggling someone in would be easiest to find out what was going on, but it’s a risk I am not willing to take. Maybe you could....hook up with that Yuvar. Find his weaknesses. Wine him, dine him, make him blabber.”

Isabela rubbed her eyes and then kicked Aveline’s shin. “That was your bloody plan all around. Why not use the whore to solve this for you? You could have said so in the first place and it would have saved me the pain of playing pretty pastry fucking-vendor.” She pulled her dress off, and for a moment took smug satisfaction in Aveline’s horrified expression when a naked Isabela stood before her. She smiled widely when Aveline’s green eyes zoned in on the details. Before she could get too much of a look, Isabela threw her frock over Aveline’s head.

“I bloody hate using my body for anything that’s not my own choice. I pick freely. You are so lucky that I hate slavers more than I hate you right now.” Isabela put her corset on, angrily yanking on the strings. “I expect surveillance when I actually do wine and dine him somewhere. I’ll let you know the details. Now get out, I need to find some relaxation to take the edge of this day, and I am too angry at you to even mess with your ugly face anymore.” Aveline stumbled off without any further word after being dismissed so rudely, pushed out of Isabela’s room as much as she was pulled inside earlier.  


* * *

Aveline had a sleepless night in the barracks, tossing restlessly. As guard-captain, she had her own room, but this night it felt even more stifling and lonely than usual. Her mind was still reeling from Isabela’s nightly visit a few nights back. It had been shocking how the Rivaini played her, finding every single weakness of hers, downright to kissing the inside of her wrist.

Yes, she was lonely, more lonely than she’d ever admit to herself. She used to be able to focus much of her attention on Hawke, ‘sistering’ her, checking up on her every single step, but Hawke had grown out of it. Hawke might be motherless now, but she wasn’t lonely. She was amazingly strong and she had Merrill now. The two were inseparable. Aveline didn’t particularly care for the blood mage, but she made Hawke very happy.

And that left Aveline restless. Isabela was probably right that she smothered the guards with her attention and her meddling, but what else was there in life? She didn’t dare think about Donnic, who was avoiding her ever since she so foolishly asked for help in wooing him. She wanted to think about Isabela even less.

She had some guilty twinges that she actually asked the pirate to use her body to catch those slavers. Who asked something like that of another woman? Who knew what a man eager to sell young girls into whoredom might do to a woman trying to engage him into any sort of close contact? _Surely it’s not anything that she hasn’t done a million times before._ Still, it hadn’t been the right thing to ask, and Aveline strongly believed in things that were right. It was the opposite of protecting someone, and even someone as depraved as Isabela deserved her protection.

When Aveline fell asleep, the image of Isabela slipping out of her dress danced on her mind, restlessly, before she finally found the oblivion of dreamless sleep.  


* * *

Tracking down Yuvar wasn’t quite as easy as first imagined. Aveline sent Isabela a bunch of information about the man. He lived in Lowtown, but not too far from the bazaar and stairs to Hightown, which were practically posh and swanky considering the rest of Lowtown. He was in the employment of the Pebbleton family, a minor noble family who were wealthy enough to have a manor in Hightown that required a gardener.

But how do you approach a simple gardener turned slaver when you didn’t actually want to pretend you had slaves to sell? His method seemed to be to have a drink at one of the stalls in the Lowtown Bazaar, every afternoon after work, and people were then able to approach him. Isabela had spied on him from afar. Whatever supplicant he was receiving, they usually left after a while, without him. Not a single one of the dock workers was willing to spit it out how it all happened. She only knew that’s how he did his business. As he did this business in the busiest time of day, rush hour in Lowtown, Isabela had zero luck chasing him down. She couldn’t even consider the roofs, not in the late afternoon. He never conducted any business at night.

Ultimately, it was the girl who she had wanted to keep out of this completely who brought Yuvar to her. Dear Merrill. If anyone had asked Isabela who she cared about most in the world, she would have said ‘My next ship’ first and ‘Merrill’ second. There was something sweet and irresistible about the Dalish elf, in a completely nonsexual way. She might have been Isabela’s first real friend, who just loved her for herself and not her looks. She was so naive and so guileless. Too naive maybe. Isabela had been hanging around the Pebbleton manor casually, as a shocker actually wearing pants and no bandana. _This whole thing with me having to change my clothing style needs to go away, gah._ She was just about to call it a day, when she espied Yuvar, dragging a distraught Merrill out of the door.

“You dirty knife-ear, I don’t care about your claims that you actually live in Hightown. You stole from the garden, and I am going to take care of it that you pay for it.” For a fleeting moment, Isabela played with the idea to have him drag Merrill off to whatever and finally find out what he truly was doing. Then she shook her head. It was sweet Merrill after all. “Oy, Merrill, I was just waiting for you here! Hawke was asking me to escort you back to the estate.” She moved towards them, not even sauntering. After all she was demure Isabela today. Not as demure as at the docks, but showing considerably less skin and jewelry than on all other days. She even wore her hair in a ponytail.

“Bela, by the creators, so good to see you! Help me!” Merrill had this panicky look in her eyes that she often had when she had no clear idea of why she was in trouble. It happened quite a lot. “I was just picking flowers for Hawke, they would look so nice on her writing desk.”

Isabela offered a winning smile and then bowed to Yuvar, getting a good luck at him for the first time. He looked incredibly...normal. Maybe 5’9”, he wore the plain clothing of a servant. His skin was suntanned from working outside, but his face was entirely unremarkable. His eyes were small and grey, and he squinted at Isabela. His hair was mouse-brown and cropped close to his head, with a receding hairline. He was maybe thirty years old, it was hard to tell.

“I am Beladana, majordomo at the Hawke Estate. You might have heard of Messere Hawke, she is doing quite remarkable things around Kirkwall. Quite wealthy too. This elf here is one of her companions.” Merrill stared at Isabela full of confusion. She opened her mouth to speak, but then shut it audibly when Isabela gave a tiny shake of her head. “I will vouch for it personally that she will not bother the garden of the Pebbleton manor anymore. You know how elves can get, quite silly the moment they see something green.”

“Now, that’s not true! It’s not like that, it’s just that....” Merrill yelped when Isabela stepped on her bare toes and immediately forgot what she had been about to say.

“Serah, please let me recompense you for the insult of having an elf in the manor. I hope the Pebbletons were not disturbed by this interlude. Messere Hawke would never forgive herself if she gave insult.” Isabela bowed again and then produced a heavy pouch of sovereigns. Only good that she had asked Aveline to cover her expenses in advance. At the clink of coins, Yuvar let go of Merrill’s arms. “Shoo along, Merrill, Hawke will be waiting.” Isabela was sure she’d never hear the end of it when this was over.

Isabela handed five sovereigns over to Yuvar, with a questioning look, and he quickly pocketed them. _So he’s greedy and does things for money._ He then looked up at her and said with a smile on his thin lips “That’s not all I will ask for my silence. I might have to alert the guards otherwise. How about a meal and a glass of wine at Jacques’ Winery later tonight, my dear Beladana?” His voice was very soft and gentle as was his smile. His eyes however were wintry cold. He gave Isabela the chills.

“Why, with little ol’ me? It’d be my pleasure, Serah...what’s your name?” Isabela managed to blush like an old maiden. How good that she had perfected the manners of a virgin in many roleplay sessions. Men went wild for maidens.

“My name is Yuvar, and I am looking forward to dinner. Meet you there then, tonight at 8?” His voice lowered a bit, almost a whisper. “I would be heartbroken if you didn’t make it. I’d have to find you, all over Kirkwall. But I think I would. Don’t think I wouldn’t.” He smiled and turned to leave, back inside the gates to the manor.

Isabela was shivering, even though it was a warm day. This guy made her feel cold all over.  


* * *

Aveline had to roll her shoulders with unease, patrolling through Hightown with Brennan. For weeks she had paid special attention to this mansion. She had noticed Isabela hanging around there, and then she had rigidly watched the exchange between those three.

“I’ll be damned,” she murmured, which made guard Brennan look at her in confusion. _She wanted to stab me in the eye for considering a use for Merrill, but now uses her herself. The hypocritical bitch._ “Nothing, let’s carry on.” She kept her eyes on the exchange, in particular when Merrill had left. Even more demure, the signs for Isabela’s flirtatious posture were obvious, and it looked like it worked. The pirate did however seem troubled. As she turned to leave, she waved for one of the many Hightown messengers.

Later in the day, Aveline received Isabela’s message, delivered with a delay, straight to her office. _‘Jacques’ Winery, 8 o’ clock. Smells worse than rotten fish’_. The guard-captain pursed her lips. This whole affair left a bad taste in her mouth. She’d have to be in the vicinity. She did not ever want to have any harm come to Isabela. It left her feeling uneasy. Maybe this all was too high a risk for someone who belonged to Aveline’s quasi-family.


	3. Chapter 3

"I really don't understand what this is all about. What are you not telling me?" Hawke's voice was concerned yet suspicious at the same time. She was leaning against her dresser, watching Isabela rummage around it. "Merrill gave me this really convoluted story about flowers, a nasty man and majordomo Beladana. What the fuck was that about?" She had an angry line above her nose, poking Isabela in the shoulder.

If Isabela really thought about it, Hawke was number 2 on the list of people she cared about. Their relationship was not as endearing and sweet as the relationship with Merrill, but she did care. She was happy that such a cunning, talented, charismatic person was taking care of her kitten, who truly deserved not being lonely in her life. Didn't everyone deserve just that? _Even Aveline. Even I...no, not going there._

Isabela pulled a blue robe out of the dresser. It had cut out shoulders, a tight corset, and otherwise demure sleeves. The perfect mix of innocent with a hint of flesh and hidden pleasures. "I wish you were bustier, Hawke, but I think this laced corset should fit me. Help me." She had no reservations getting undressed in front of Hawke. Very early on they had had a short but tumultuous love affair that Isabela only ended once she started to notice the way Merrill was looking at Hawke and vice versa. It was probably the least selfish thing she had done in her life.

Hawke just waited and stared at Isabela until the pirate finally threw her hands up in the air. "You never give up, do you? It's complicated, I really can't tell you all. The world doesn't revolve around you, you know?" The corset of Hawke's mage robe was very tight, but it fit. Barely. Yuvar would have something to ogle. The cutout fabric revealed some of her bronzed flesh. She let out a sigh. "Listen, Aveline asked me a favor."

This made Hawke snort and shake her head. "What's going on, did you just say Aveline? You are working for the city guard? Okay, now I know something smells fishy here."

Isabela sniffed at the air. "I bathed this morning, you know? I love your bath tub." Nothing could distract Hawke right now, so Isabela tried the flirtatious manner. "I just need this dress to impress a man. Can't you understand this? Wouldn't you dress up for lovely Merrill?" She pressed herself against Hawke's side, purring in her ear. "Where's kitten anyhow? Are you two having a lot of fun? She never tells me anything, she is all too blushing and enamored. I would love to hear more about your...adventures."

Hawke gently pushed her aside. "I know your tricks, 'bela, don't you forget that. Something weird is going on, and you're not telling me. Aveline is strange these days too, keeps mentioning she's working on an important case and has no time to travel with me. Call it my sixth sense, but something's going on that I am not comfortable with."

 _Neither am I, Hawke, neither am I._ Isabela tugged on the robe and whirled around. "Do I look lovely or not?" Her hair was carefully piled up, with just a few alluring strands falling loose of a braided bun. She wore very unostentatious jewelry that she had also borrowed from Hawke, and did indeed look lovely. There was a certain softness on her face as Hawke nodded at Isabela, tucking a loose strand of the pirate's hair behind her ear.

Sometimes Isabela wished she had been more selfish. Only sometimes. It was for the best she hadn't been though. But sometimes...

She leaned forward to kiss Hawke's cheek. "I'll be careful, mom. Aveline is looking after me too, so what could possibly happen?" Instead of being reassuring, this only brought Hawke's worry-lines back on her forehead. "I'll return your things later. Off I go!"

Before Hawke could say anything else to stop her, or before Merrill could come bouncing in, Isabela departed the estate. It was almost time, and Isabela had to think about how the night would go. She had no idea what would be happening.  


* * *

Jaques' Winery was one of the few taverns in Hightown. Though tavern was maybe not the right term. It was a cute little restaurant serving Orlesian fare. In other words, pretentious slop that was thoroughly overpriced. The wine selection was supposed to be excellent, finest wines from Orlais and Antiva. Aveline was patrolling the small square where the winery was located, nodding to other guards in the area. It was evening now, almost time.

The guard-captain could not deny she was nervous. Isabela's message had been incredibly brief, but Aveline sensed something between the hurried words, a touch of fear. Maybe it was her own fear that she projected onto Isabela's words. Aveline angrily tugged at her scarf, frustrated at herself. Serve and protect, protect and serve, that was her motto, and she felt unhappy that she had laid her task into the most unreliable hands she could possibly imagine.

At least that's what she kept telling herself as reason for her unhappiness.

Said unreliable hands were actually walking towards the Winery now, looking quite lovely and demure, and not just the hands. She was wearing something that looked vaguely familiar, like a discarded mage robe of Hawke's, but Aveline wasn't sure. She looked calm, full of poise and quite charming. She looked nothing like the Rivaini pirate that Aveline knew.

It didn't seem like Isabela saw her, which was probably for the best. She headed into the Winery, perfectly on time for her dinner date. Yuvar had not arrived yet, at least not as far as Aveline was able to tell.

Aveline tensed as she heard some commotion towards the other end of the square. "Thief! Someone stop this thief! Who would dare steal in Hightown!" All her instincts kicked in, and Aveline quickly jogged over to where a scuffle had begun. Without considering any risk to herself, Aveline reached for the shield on her back and pushed in to separate the combatants. One of them was a wealthy looking Hightowner, and his assailant appeared to be a relatively young elvhen boy, of maybe 13. The boy held a knife and dropped the Hightowner's pouch on the ground, as soon as Aveline showed.

The guard-captain expected him to run, because that's what happened countless times, every damn day, right here in Hightown. Merrill was probably the only person in the world who found the Kirkwall disposition for muggings exciting. However, this boy was different. He did not even try to run. His large eyes focused on Aveline. In the fraction of a moment that things were happening, Aveline thought that something did not seem right with him. He moved like a dreamer, asleep while awake, his gaze completely unfocused, and yet so intent on his task. His knife was a slashing flash, driven towards Aveline's arm. The red-head was as always wearing her full plate armor, but part of her armor was leather, covering her arms, plate only protecting her elbows and shoulders. The knife sliced through the leather of her right arm, cutting the armor right by the crook of her elbow. It was a shallow cut, but it bled profusely. Aveline bashed the boy with her shield, and he staggered, falling onto the ground. From there, other guards grabbed him, finally having arrived on scene.

It all happened within a minute at most. As soon as the elvish boy was in the hands of the guards, Aveline finally looked down at her arm, cursing at the ruined armor, blood still seeping from the cut. It was not that it hurt, but it was entirely unexpected. She hated surprises like that. A concerned citizen offered her a kerchief, and without even looking up, she accepted it, pressing it against the cut. Soon, it stopped bleeding, and she let out a long breath. The owner of the kerchief surprised her by yanking it from her fingers. Aveline looked up and gazed into the cold, grey eyes of Yuvar. He smiled thinly, clutching the bloody cloth.

Aveline's skin was crawling with unease. This was not a simple gesture to assist a city guard, it felt like he had been targeting her specifically. She opened her mouth, wanting to call for the aid of the other guard on scene, but Yuvar was already preventing her from it. The shout died at the back of her throat. Aveline didn't know magic, but she knew when it was used. She had spent too much time around Anders, Merrill and Hawke to not see the signs. He held her blood-soaked kerchief and wielded magic, still smiling, utterly repulsive. _The bloody bastard is using blood magic. That's how he is doing all of this, Maker._

She felt herself swallow, and then wandered over to the Hightown nobleman who had been stolen from. Aveline felt herself going through the motions, reassuring the nobleman, telling her guardsmen to take the prisoner to jail for later interrogation. She heard herself say that she needed a moment to calm down. She felt his voice oozing through her mind, like cold slime, like stepping on a slug with bare feet. She felt him ordering her to go to the Chantry, and that's where she went. Panicked thoughts filled her mind as she felt trapped inside of her body, and the one thought that kept running through her mind was a name. _Isabela_.  


* * *

Isabela felt strangely relieved. He wasn't at the Winery. She would just have a nice glass of Antivan wine, and then end this charade. She would go find Aveline and tell her to stuff it. No slaver was worth this much time and effort without considerably more coin in for her than what the city guard would probably pay her as result. No simple favors amongst friends for her, no matter how much she actually liked Aveline.

There was some sort of commotion outside, and Isabela pondered to use the distractedness of the waitstaff to make a run for it. It's always more fun to actually swindle yourself to a nice treat like this really excellent wine than being a stuffy burgess paying for what she bought. She was just about to rise and head out when the door of the Winery opened and Yuvar walked in. He immediately zoned in on her, heading to her table by the door.

"I hope you weren't waiting too long," he murmured softly, bowing to her, before he sat down. "There was a mugging right outside, and I assisted the guard. Terrible. Those elves, they should not be allowed in Hightown at all. They should stay in the alienage, don't you think?" Yuvar's voice was incredibly soft, and repugnant to Isabela. This close to her he seemed even less attractive than he had earlier.

He sat down across from her, with a small smile on his lips. "You look lovely." Isabela felt tongue-tied like a young maiden, which was totally not her. She'd just have to tell Aveline that she couldn't go through with this, it was too much.

She smiled brightly. "I didn't wait too long at all. I am glad you are here. I was getting quite lonely." Isabela laughed coyly and then raised her glass to him. "I started without you, I hope you don't mind. This golden Antivan wine is quite amazing."

Yuvar tilted his head, studying her cooly now. His thin smile was gone. "You didn't say yet, about elves. You don't think they should be here in Hightown, do you? Or in Kirkwall? What's your opinion?"

Was that his motive? Hatred for elves turned into slavery? Isabela laughed, albeit nervously this time. "I am not exposed to many elves regularly, aside from Messere Hawke's...friend. The one you found earlier. Don't they make good errand runners?"

Yuvar didn't deem this worthy of a response. He flagged a waiter and ordered a glass of wine for himself as well, but no food. A rude date, for certain. Isabela tried to make smalltalk with him, but he seemed completely resistant to her charms. Instead, he quietly finished his glass of wine, then pushed it towards the center of the table.

As if meticulously planned, Isabela watched him push a finger hard against the glass, toppling it. It shattered on the table, into a myriad of fine shards. Exquisite Orlesian handiwork, now broken upon the table. Isabela shied away from the table, but he reached for her hand, rolling it in the shards. His grip on her wrist was surprisingly strong. Her wrist would bruise. The pirate gasped at the pain, the back of her left hand being cut multiple times from the tiny bits of glass. Tears came to her eyes, but still he forced her hand, rolling it around. She was just about to cry out, when she felt him use magic on her. He lifted his free hand and she saw droplets of blood rise from her cut hand.

"You all think I am foolish, don't you? Beladana, majordomo of Hawke. Everyone knows Hawke has a pirate slut companion. Everyone knows she has the guard-captain in her pocket. I know what you were looking for. There will never be proof. I am too powerful for the likes of you. I cleanse the dregs out of the terrible barrel of wine that is Kirkwall. I sell the dregs and clean my world. From the likes of you." Yuvar spoke with this soft voice of his, his face devoid of emotion.

His face changed when a waiter approached and he smiled apologetically, holding Isabela's bleeding hand. "We don't know how this happened. It just shattered." The waiter fawned over them, offering them a different table, but Yuvar declined. Instead he covered their bill, and rose, Isabela rising with him with no volition of her own.

Outside, her steps fell in line with his, but she was still unable to speak. She did not know where he would lead her, but soon there was no doubt. Kirkwall's Chantry, it was.  


* * *

Isabela stumbled into a dimly-lit room in the Chantry. She was no expert on the Chantry whatsoever, though she had lived through some naughty moments in the building with a partner or two. So wicked and illicit, to have fun in the house of the Maker. But that was then, and this was now. Yuvar had led her into this small room and then she had heard the sound of a door being locked.

When her vision adjusted to the dimness of the room, Isabela saw that it was a small chamber reserved for praying. There were candles everywhere, and prayer benches. A small altar showed the symbol of the Maker and also had a small sculpture of Andraste herself. Right by the altar, there was a kneeling form, another woman held inside this room. She did not turn around nor did she give any sign that she paid heed to her arrival.

Isabela pushed herself up, and then dragged herself over to the other woman. Her body was filled with a deep lassitude. Her hand was prickling with pain, as if the cuts were still fresh. She fell on her knees right next to the other, and then murmured her name. "Aveline. He got you too."

The guard-captain turned her head. Isabela had never seen Aveline so grim and above all so seething with rage. "Yes, he did. The bastard. Blood mage." Isabela saw the dried blood stains on Aveline's arm, and held out her hand. It felt like little bits of glass were still under her skin. "He's using the chantry for this whole thing. How sick and perverted." She angrily drew breath, sharply. "The worst is I can't even run, when I head to the door, I can't move. He's got us trapped."

Her hands were balled into fists. "Earlier, when I came in, there were a couple girls here, and one boy. All of them around 12, 13. They looked hungry, reed-thin. Darktown children, most likely. Fereldans, one elf. They were here, it looked like they were praying. I looked at their faces, and they were blank slates. Like the boy who stabbed me on the square." Aveline pounded the floor in frustration. "Why would anyone doubt him? He has children sent to the chantry. He takes their blood, controls them, and when it's time, they leave, seemingly of their own will, heading straight to their pickup point. The perfect plan. No one ever the wiser."

Isabela closed her eyes which were burning. She felt more trapped and more helpless than she had in years. With a frown she reached under the robe, and got one of her daggers from a belt she wore around her thigh. "I'll stab him when he comes back. I'll gut him like a pig. Not only does he sell people into slavery, he uses and controls them with blood magic. He is less than a pig."

Aveline shook her head. "Don't you understand, Isabela? He'll make you slash this dagger across your own throat if you even try. Do you remember this blood mage whore at the Rose who almost had Hawke slash her own throat? That's us now. Only that we have no one to break the control for us." She chortled, bitterly. "He didn't even take our weapons. No one will hear us scream. We're trapped. Who will help us now?"

Outside, evening mass was starting, the final gathering for the day. Isabela closed her eyes as she listened to the choir of female voices outside. None of them knew that a blood mage was using the chantry for his own dark purposes.

Both women closed their eyes, lost in their own thoughts, the choir outside the only anchor at this time. A choir full of longing, for escape, for freedom, for mercy for those children, in their minds.


	4. Chapter 4

The wood of the door felt cold and rough against Isabela's cheek. She was pressing against it as if she willed it to open from her touch alone. The sounds of the choir were still audible, the final words of the Chant of Light reverberating throughout the Chantry. The pirate was not deeply familiar with the different verses of the Chant, but even she had heard the Canticle of Transfigurations, so significant here in Kirkwall.

Isabela tried to open her mouth, tried to call for help, tried to scream, but nothing came out. She tried to kick the door, but her limbs wouldn't move. All she could do was stand against the door, helplessly, realizing that life went by normally out there, but she was confined. She could not even move to pick the lock of the door, she who could pick just about any lock. Her and Aveline, in this place forever.

"Why are you still trying that? It's of no use." Aveline sounded stoic. She was no longer kneeling by the altar, and instead was sitting with her legs stretched out, leaning her back against a wall. The candlelight made her hair glow a deep copper red instead of the normal, brighter ginger. "It's a waste of time. Which you are probably good at. Normally under someone." She carefully checked the cut leather of her armor, looking at the incision on her arm. She flexed her hand, then took off her gloves, letting out a deep breath.

Isabela walked back from the door, and focused her ire upon Aveline. She stood towering above her, with her hands on her hips. Her eyes were glowing amber in the dim light of the chapel, full of irrational anger directed at her companion. "Why the fuck did you have to ask me of all people? Why not Hawke? She would be able to fix this. She'd set this whole place on fire and then she'd kill the bastard. But no, you had to ask me, because you don't bloody hate me enough already."

It was so easy to rise to the bait. Aveline looked back up at her and then simply said the first things that came to mind. "Shut up, whore. Of course I should have asked Hawke, but don't you think she deserves a break? She just lost her mother! It's a miracle she's already smiling again. Imagine if she was here. First she loses her mother to a blood mage, and now another blood mage is a slaver who has us trapped in here." She glared intensely, her green eyes brooding. "Stop being so fucking selfish, Isabela."

"Stop being so priggish and uptight. You know everything better. You are the best judge of everyone, and you always know what's right or wrong. Your world is full of black and white, and I am so black to you." Isabela snarled at the guard-captain and started pacing, restless like a caged tiger. "So what if I am selfish. I had to learn that, to survive." With irritation, she yanked at the bun of hair, spilling the tresses to flow freely across her shoulders. It was wavier than Aveline remembered, but then, she did not usually see Isabela without some sort of bandana holding her hair down.

Aveline checked her gloves, for any sign of rust or wear, and then dropped them on the floor again. "I don't understand selfishness. I actually asked you because I thought deep inside of you, there was an unselfish soul whose greed usually carries her away. Guess I was wrong, if you now wish any of our friends were here in your shoes instead." She methodically started to inspect her armor, just like she would do any other day at the end of a day.

"An unselfish soul. What were you thinking?" Isabela continued to pace, kicking aside one of the benches that stood here for the devout who would come into this chapel for prayers. "You picked me because you thought I have no scruples and would just spread my legs without any thought to it. As if I had no standards. Why did you not try to get him to fuck you on your own? Scared, aren't you? For good reason."

Aveline rose and checked on her greaves, not deeming Isabela worthy of a glance. "Stop making this personal. I only had the best of intentions. Don't think I haven't noticed how much you value personal freedom. I have known you long enough to know that you hate slavers, and those who abuse women. I have seen the look on your face when Hawke killed Kelder. I have heard the stories how you took Castillon's Fereldan slaves and freed them." She stood up straight, pointing a finger accusingly at Isabela. "I made the mistake of thinking you were a good person and not a selfish bitch. Stop making it sound as if I whored you out. I tried to make this bloody bastard stop the best way I could figure out, and I failed. Don't think that this is not eating at me already."

The guard spoke with so much conviction and righteous anger that Isabela was unable to come up with a retort. Especially as Aveline was right. She did despise slavers, and she valued personal freedom above anything else. Eventually she spoke up, poking a finger back at Aveline. "I won't stop making it sound like that, because that's what you did, whoring me out to a psychopath. It wasn't right. I went along with it for the greater good. I have my reasons why I hate slavery. You can't possibly understand. I mean, come on. What bad things have happened to you? Fought against darkspawn, lost your husband, never got laid again. You have a posh position in the city guard, you are never lacking for anything. What would you understand about how the world treats the poor, the helpless. Women. You know nothing."

Aveline's jaw set squarely, pushing her chin forward. It lent her face a masculine edge, a fact often mocked by Isabela. "Of course I know nothing. Of course. It's all fallen into my lap. What does it matter that I lost loved ones during the Blight. That I saw my rightful king fall to the darkspawn. That I had to stab my own husband in the heart to spare him further pain, his blood corrupted by the taint of the spawn. Do you know how it is to love and then lend your own hand to taking the life away? How could you possibly know." Aveline's eyes were burning brightly in the flickering light of the candles.

"I worked so hard to be where I am right now. I try my best to promote women in the force, to see them treated fairly. Do you have any idea how many rapists are out there, in Lowtown and the docks? Even in Hightown, though the crimes there are behind locked doors. How many sick creeps out there just take a woman because they feel like it . I hunt them relentlessly. Within the law. I am in the middle of an investigation, where two elves are claiming that a city guard raped their sister. If he did, I swear by the Maker, I will punish him myself, he will not escape my wrath." Aveline's voice was choking. "I see the victims, and the murdered women, and all I want is to stop them, to make Kirkwall a better place. It's a never ending battle. But you are right. I know nothing. I just sit in my office, having my ass nicely cushioned, and moon over men that I can never obtain." She turned away from Isabela and moved back towards the altar, falling on one knee. "Maker, help us."

Isabela was drained by all those words. It was not what she had expected. Sometimes it was so easy to focus on their opposing personalities, on the contrast between them. Sometimes it was too easy to forget that they were just two women, trying to make a living in this world, stranded in the same place, in Kirkwall, driven along by their uniting force, Hawke. It shouldn't be so easy to forget.

She sat on one of the benches behind the kneeling Aveline. It seemed as if the darkness was increasing in the room. Two large candle holders were still flanking the altar, but the smaller lights on the walls and at the back of the room were flickering out, spent. Eventually, they would sit in darkness. A wave of terror rushed through Isabela. Alone, in the dark, waiting for whatever fate Yuvar had set for them.

"I was sold. For a goat and a few gold coins. He saw me and my mother in the market in my village. We lived on the coast, not far from Dairsmuid. He was a captain. He saw me and decided to have me. My 'loving' mother was only too happy to oblige." Isabela went quiet, then laughed bitterly. "Not the kind of life I had envisioned, but at least I got his ship. That's how I learned to be selfish. If you're not, then you'll be used by those around you. Look at me having been unselfish this once, and even you used me." She picked at a shard embedded in the back of her hand, and hissed through her teeth at the sharp pain.

Aveline had turned around, to look at Isabela as she told her tale. She remained wordless, but as she watched Isabela trying to clean her wounds, she unwrapped her rust-colored scarf from around her throat. There was a basin of water right by the door, where supplicants were to wash their hands before engaging in prayer. She dipped the scarf into the water, and then sat on Isabela's right side, taking her hand. "Let me."

The Rivaini was surprised by this gesture, but let her take the hand. Aveline's hands were strong and calloused. There was a reason she often called her Lady Man-Hands, for her hands were easily as strong as those of any fighter in the guard force. And yet, she gingerly picked at the shards with her bare fingers, regardless of the dim light in here, and carefully washed every cut, every incision, with her scarf, gently. "You don't want this to get infected, that could be very painful."

Isabela chuckled, and shook her head in confusion. "We might die, Aveline. In an hour, in a day, in a week. Whenever he lets us out of here. Do you really think it will matter if those tiny cuts fester?"

"I am not ready to give up. We'll think of something. Maybe Hawke will find us. Or Merrill will sense that there was blood magic. We'll have to think of something." For a moment, Aveline's hold on Isabela's hand was almost painful. "I shall not relent, and neither should you. Men like him, and Quentin, they need to be stopped."

Isabela nodded assent, but did not voice any ideas of how they would actually stop him. It had been too easy for him to take control of her. She tensed at the memory. It was like being sold to her husband all over again. No control, no free will, ready for abuse. The years had not really mellowed the memory.

Aveline seemed to sense her anxiety and continued to gently dab at her hand. "Almost done here." She chewed on the inside of her cheek. "I take it he used force on you? Your husband, I mean." Isabela merely shrugged. That was not even worthy of a response, it should be that obvious. "How about other men? How do you live as a pirate captain, with so many men being...of unsavory nature? Are you never scared?"

Isabela laughed bitterly. "You bet I was scared when I was introduced to this life. My first years as the Siren's Call's captain were rough. Too many men thinking they could do whatever they wanted with me. I killed each and every one. Men do understand when you cut off their balls or stab them in the eye. I have done both. Have you?"

Aveline shook her head, and then let go of Isabela's hand, putting the scarf aside. Almost all of the candles but the two large ones in the front had expired, and the ones by the altar would not last much longer. It got harder to judge each other's expressions. Isabela cautiously checked her hand and found it free of any bumps. Just cuts now, but no more fragments embedded.

"See, you call me a slut, a slattern, a whore. Instead you should be amazed that given my history, I can find personal enjoyment in this particular freedom, when it was yanked from me as a girl. I have nothing to be ashamed of." Isabela spoke the words challengingly, trying to see Aveline's expression, but it was too dark for that. "You always sound like it's something I should be ashamed of. Why?"

Aveline turned away, folding the damp scarf, then unfolding it. Then refolding it. Just something to keep her large hands busy. "We have grown up differently, Isabela. My father wanted me to be a chevalier, just like he used to be. Just look at my name. He wanted me to be Aveline du Lac, Knight of Orlais. But it was not for me. It's not a name to revere. She died for her desire to be a knight, it is nothing to be proud of. I learned the virtues and strengths of a knight, without ever becoming one. I met Wesley when I was in the Fereldan army, and we were two like-minded souls. I have only been with my husband. I do not understand this giving away yourself and taking what you need. It's against my nature. I am not ashamed of myself."

She hesitated and then corrected herself. "I am ashamed of myself. That I did dare use you. It is against everything I stand for. You are...a friend. You are part of my extended family. I should protect you and not use you. I have failed." Her head sank to her chest, just as the last of the candles extinguished.

They were bathed in darkness. All that was audible was the sound of their breathing. There were no steps outside, no more choir, just two women, breathing in and out in a darkened chapel. In the darkness, Isabela reached out her hand and found Aveline's. She rested it on top of the larger one, speaking softly.

"You have not failed. You are right, we should not relent. We can still get out of here. You are so strong." Isabela's voice was soft in the darkness, and for a moment it seemed as if Aveline's breath was choked, like a swallowed sob. "You are so strong. I am strong. I believe in us." Aveline's hand moved underneath hers, turned to actually take Isabela's hand. They laced their fingers, and quietly sat in the dark.

For a moment Isabela considered. If she had to go, if this was her last night, should she not have fireworks? _It would be so easy to seduce her._ But that wasn't what she wanted. Not at all. She wanted her to admit that she was lonely. She wanted her to admit that she needed companionship, emotional and physical release. It was like asking for the moon. At least companionship, she should be able to offer.

She moved closer to Aveline, whispering to her. "It is okay to admit that you are lonely, Aveline. That you have been lonely. It doesn't make it hurt any less, but it's best to acknowledge it. I am lonely, big girl. I know how it is to lie awake at night, just longing, for something more. During the day, it's wiped out, I can keep myself busy. It does not make you a lesser person." Her free hand gently touched Aveline's face, imagining the blush on the woman's face, the delicate freckles on her pale skin.

The guard's breathing was heavy, but she did not speak. Isabela moved to pull the headband off, dropping it on the bench in the darkness. She stroked Aveline's hair soothingly, feeling the woman relax under her touch.

Aveline finally whispered, four words. "I have been lonely." Isabela threw her arms around her in the dark and pulled her closer, cradling her against her chest, still stroking her red hair. She smelled like leather, like iron, like blood and like clean soap. The Rivaini put a finger underneath her chin and questioningly touched her lips with gentle fingers. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness to show her the outlines of her face. She felt the guard-captain tense immediately, and slowly saying "I can't, Isabela."

Isabela smiled in the darkness and whispered against Aveline's ear. "I would never force what you do not want." She rose. "Let's find a spot against the wall, and let's try to sleep. We can plot once we have had some rest." Aveline followed her carefully to one of the corners of the room.

Isabela squeezed into the corner and waited for Aveline to sit as well. Once seated, she pulled her close again. They held each other silently, listening to each other's breathing, waiting for the morning to come. It was strangely comforting.

In truth, both felt less lonely than they had for a long time.


	5. Chapter 5

Aveline lay still in the darkness, her head cradled against Isabela's shoulder. The pirate's chin rested on top of her head, and she was asleep. Her breathing was deep and soothing. The guard however was wide awake. She had maybe slept for an hour, and since then had listened to her companion's breathing and any sound outside in the chantry. She never left the cradling shelter of Isabela's embrace, because it just...felt too comforting. No harm done. They were just protecting each other. It didn't mean anything. None of their observations and confessions in the dark meant anything.

Aveline attributed her weakness to the fact that they were waiting for death like the condemned. Otherwise she would never have considered embracing Isabela like this. There was this moment, this one brief moment when Isabela touched her lips with gentle fingers, that moment when Aveline had almost given in. It would have been easy to kiss those fingers. She was convinced that Isabela's lips were pliable and soft, much like her body was against hers right now. They would have felt nice against her own. Isabela would have consumed her.

In the dark, Aveline was grateful that Isabela was wearing Hawke's robe. If she wore any less, if they touched skin to skin, she would have lost her composure, even more so than she already had. Aveline inhaled deeply, sensing the enigmatic theme that was the other woman. She smelled of salt, of the sea, a complex bouquet that seemed exotic to Aveline. As complex as Isabela was, through and through. It was too easy to dismiss her as one-track note, as greedy whore who slept and cheated her way through life. All of the companions of Hawke, they all were more than a look at the surface would indicate. _Only that Isabela is more exciting to look at than I am_.

The guard-captain forced herself to think less of the woman that had her arms around her, and more of their predicament. They had so very little to go on. Both had been controlled by Yuvar with very little amounts of blood. Was blood even necessary? She tried to remember that prostitute Idunna. Apostitute. There it was, Isabela's laughter dancing on her mind, creating this word and laughing gleefully. How inappropriate Aveline had found her at that moment.

Idunna. Aveline remembered the sense of inertia she had felt inside the whore's room, as she had listened to her questioning Hawke and ordering her to draw her knife across her throat. She couldn't have done anything for her life. There was no use of blood, Idunna had simply tried to control Hawke and ultimately failed. How did Hawke break the spell? Was it even an option for them when Yuvar had probably amplified the control with the use of blood?

Isabela was no stranger to temptation, and had always failed in any encounter where temptation was offered. How they had laughed in retrospect that Isabela had betrayed Hawke to a desire demon, over a big boat. It sounded like such a darling story when told by Isabela and Varric in the Hanged Man. Aveline had no expectations that Isabela would have the sufficient strength to not bend to Yuvar's will. She required protection. From herself, from Yuvar. Aveline would give her everything to protect her.  


* * *

Aveline stared at the light, a thin line of brightness underneath the door, indicating that there was life again outside. The Chantry sisters were likely turning on extinguished candles as they prepared for the morning chant. Isabela stirred against her, and for a moment, one of her hands greedily reached for Aveline's derriere, only to be met with the cold feel of plate armor under her hands. "Ouch," she gasped under her breath, and then moved away from Aveline. The guard-captain heard a whistling sound and knew the pirate had drawn a hidden blade. "Relax. Don't stab me. And don't touch my ass like that again."

Isabela was silent for a while, and then sheathed the dagger, back underneath the heavy robe, in a sheath she wore on her thigh. There was a reason she did not usually wear confining clothing like pants or dresses. In the time it took her to draw her dagger, she would already be dead. "I forgot. Where we were. I am sorry." She squinted at the line of illumination under the door. "Is it morning, do you think?"

The redhead nodded her head in the darkness. "You slept quite a bit. I have a feeling it's maybe before dawn. We will know, when the chant begins. We must think about what's going to happen today. Why would he bring us here? Why not dispose of us right away?"

The Rivaini chewed on her bottom lip and then without thought reached for Aveline's hand. The other took it. "I do not know, Aveline. If I were him, I would have gotten rid of me right away. You, I understand why he is keeping you. You are the guard-captain. You will be missed. Your absence will be noted, from the moment you are not there for the morning drills. Won't your second in command search everywhere?" Isabela snorted. "I have heard the guards in the Rose, I told you. They think you are more stifling than their mothers. They will know something's up. He shouldn't have taken you. Me, I would not have been a risk. No one will miss my absence." There was a tinge of bitterness in her voice.

"Of course people would miss you. Like...Hawke. She is very fond of you. And Varric. Merrill, of course, she practically worships the ground you walk on." Aveline tried to think of any further names and came up short.

"Let's face it, they wouldn't notice my absence until it'd be weeks. I am not that close to anyone. Neither are you that close to anyone, it's only because you have your regulated, scheduled life-style as a guard that you'd be missed." Bitterness didn't become Isabela's voice, but it was there, undeniably so. Loneliness was her underlying theme these days. It had never been so apparent to Aveline before. It had never matched her own feelings before. Once you admitted to being lonely, it seemed to gnaw at you, until it made you hollow on the inside. This is what Aveline felt like.

Aveline boxed Isabela's side. She didn't quite deck her, but it was not gentle. "Don't you dare talk this stupid junk about who will be missed more. It doesn't do anything to help us. Knowing who is more important out there doesn't help us either. Where's your ingenuity? Where's your drive to freedom? Do you want to get out of here and stop this bastard, or do you want to give up?" Her voice was an angry snarl, a lioness rising up to defend her cubs.

There was no more hand-holding in the dark now. Isabela used a hand to shove against Aveline's shoulder, roughly. There was an air of tension between them. Isabela had the overwhelming urge to kiss Aveline, press her against the wall, and absorb all that delicious fire into herself. So many possibilities. She was convinced that once her lips would touch Aveline's, she would burst into passion. But no, instead of kissing her lips hungrily, Isabela slapped blindly at the guard's hands and rose. "I am not giving up. I am just a captain, who sails the seas. I don't know how to combat blood mages. You tell me. I am a sea dog with no land legs for this kind of shit."

Aveline took a deep breath and rose as well. "As if I knew. All I know is that giving up is giving in already, and we simply cannot afford this. Just pull yourself together." She rubbed the shoulder that Isabela had shoved against. This return to their usual strained relationship was oddly painful.

Before either woman could say anything else, they tensed at the sound of a key in the lock of the door. The door slowly opened, and the sudden light made them blink. Aveline shaded her eyes, to make out the glowing form in the doorway. The sudden light made it seem as if Yuvar was surrounded by a halo.

Yuvar was accompanied by a short Chantry sister, elderly, and perfectly quiet. She didn't even look at them. Instead, she merely went ahead and replaced all the candles with fresh ones, lighting them. When she completed her task, she spoke perfunctorily. "May the Light of the Maker bless you, children." And then she simply left. Clearly, she was a thrall of Yuvar's. He clearly had meddled thoroughly here, infiltrated the heart of faith in Kirkwall.

Isabela and Aveline stared at him as he closed the door, and watched him. He was dressed in plain work clothes again and looked utterly harmless, of no significance whatsoever. He completely ignored them and moved towards the altar. He kneeled and then started praying earnestly. It was a surreal moment.

"You got to be fucking kidding me." Isabela just stared at his back, shaking her head. At her words, Yuvar rose to his feet and turned to look at her. His eyes were grey as the water in a Darktown puddle. Fish showed more emotions than he did. He pointed his hand at Isabela, and she fell on her knees, screaming in pain. The cuts on the back on her hand opened, and she bled, tears streaming down her face.

"You do not interrupt me while I converse with the Maker. I am a devout man, and I will not accept any interruptions from scum like you." Yuvar sounded incredibly bored as he spoke those words. He looked bored too. He turned back towards the altar.

Aveline moved to Isabela, putting an arm around her shoulder. The pirate was wiping her face with the back of the hand that was not injured, cradling the other to her. Aveline was filled with so much repulsion for the man who had just flicked his hand and ripped into Isabela for her words. Repulsion and rage ran through her. She could not hold her tongue either, though she already knew she would come to regret it. "Those who bring harm without provocation to the least of His children are hated and accursed by the Maker, as the Chant of the Light teaches us. You are a maleficar, how dare you claim you are a man of the faith, when your very existence is an affront to the Maker?"

Isabela stared at her in horror, expecting Yuvar to do his worst, but he concluded his prayers and walked towards Aveline, looking at her as if she was an insect. "Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just." He smiled thinly at her. "Aren't we both the same. We keep peace. We are champions of the just. I simply rid Kirkwall of those Kirkwall doesn't need. We can interpret the Chant of the Light loosely. I believe the Canticle of Transfigurations was added at a later time, and falsely represents mages. If only we were fully allowed to participate, we could make the Maker return so much sooner, spreading the Chant of Light into all corners of the world. I am a humble servant."

Aveline snorted and shook her head. "Do not compare the two of us to be the same. You do not keep peace. You abuse and you kill, and you use all those magics that made the Maker turn from the people of Thedas." She turned to look at Isabela. "Let her go. She only approached you on my behalf. She has done you no harm. If you truly claim you are just, then you let her go."

Yuvar smiled thinly, and wiggled his fingers in the air, as if he was playing a flute. Isabela curled up on the ground, wracked with pain. She made incoherent sounds, as the blood was dripping from her fingers now. "I cannot spare the wicked. She is. I have touched her mind, and it is full of depravity, and rebellious thoughts. Most women who are not of the faith deserve nothing more than be made whores. I am sure some house in Minrathous will gladly have her serve on her knees. "

Aveline was filled with helpless rage at this display of power. She put one hand on the pommel of her sword, but couldn't draw it. At least it felt good having her hand on it. "If you mean to sell her, you should stop injuring the goods now. I hear whores fetch better prices when there's no damage." She couldn't quite believe she was actually saying this. Using her so, as if she hadn't already used her so much. "Maybe you are right and she is that wicked, and then you need to ship her off."

The man coolly watched her and then nodded. "You are very smart, Guard-Captain. I don't want to work against you. I want to work with you." Aveline's mind suddenly flooded with soothing thoughts. Attempts at making Yuvar seem like a good person. Didn't he suddenly radiantly smile? Didn't he look like the Maker's hand had touched him? It seemed worthwhile to listen to him.

It only took one look at the bleeding, suffering Isabela to repel all those thoughts. It was him trying to control her, but Isabela was her anchor, stemming her against the tide of his control. "I will work with you. You have my full cooperation. No guards will harm you." She hesitated. "You should take her to where the rest of the scum is."

He bowed his head, secure in the knowledge that she was his to control now. _If only he knew_. His smile was slight. It deepened when Aveline walked over to kick Isabela in the side. The look of utter betrayal and pain in her amber eyes nearly broke Aveline. "The next caravan to Starkhaven will leave in two days. In the meantime we can keep her here."

Starkhaven. That was unexpected. But then, what an oversight, was it not known he was originally from Starkhaven? Everyone had assumed that he had a rendezvous point on the coast where he would sell those slaves off. Not that they were going to Starkhaven.

Yuvar moved his hand again, his gesture for using magic. Isabela was sobbing on the floor, near passed out from pain. She rose slowly and moved to sit on one of the benches. "Pray. Maybe one fine day you will understand, Rivaini heathen. Listen to the beautiful choirs here, singing the Chant of Light all day. Don't they fill your heart with longing for the Maker's return?" He sounded driven, as if he meant every word of it. He clearly was demented. He took Aveline's arm. "Let's go to the Keep and pay your office a visit. I would like to see your case notes."

It near broke Aveline's heart to hear the sobs behind her as she left the chapel. She was the worst protector in the world. Her middle name was betrayal. All the wrong actions, for the right reasons. Still wrong.  


* * *

Sheet after sheet of careful case records were consumed with fire. Yuvar read every page, then tossed them in the flames of the fireplace in Aveline's office. It was early in the morning and thus no one had actually noticed her absence. He followed her into her office as supplicant mere minutes after she had arrived at the barracks. He was confident with his control over Aveline, and happy to destroy all records of his. How good it was that his control over her was so tenuous. She felt his touch and played along, but the deeper he tried to probe, the louder she heard Isabela's sobbing, the more vividly she saw the lines of blood dripping from her fingertips.

He finished burning the last record, and then turned towards her. She felt his probing thoughts like greedy tendrils, trying to ensnare her. He looked confused for a moment, then approached her, and quickly drew a knife. He sliced into her palm, then focused. She felt her mind going foggier, but she clung on to her anchor. She clung to the painful memory of those beautiful, amber eyes looking at her full of betrayal. She tried to look blank, as if the stinging pain in her hand meant nothing. Yuvar finally gave a nod. "I must take my leave now. I won't come back. You need to learn the operations, so I want you to come to Dead Man's Pass, in two days time, around the eighth hour. The caravan to Starkhaven will be there. Don't be late."

Aveline spoke in a toneless voice. "I will be there. In two days time." When he left, she bandaged her bleeding hand. Her red hair fell into her eyes. Her headband was gone. She tried to remember, and then called to mind the moment that Isabela had pulled off the headband in the dark, to caress her hair. She ran her uninjured hand through the red hair, and closed her eyes. Her silent tears were bitter.

She reached for a parchment, and started to write, leaving a bloody handprint on the sheet. It didn't matter.

 _Dear Hawke. Isabela is in grave danger. In two days time, she will be moved to Starkhaven, to be sold into slavery. Only you can stop this. Be at Dead Man's Pass at 8 o' clock. Prepare for blood magic. Bring the best. Prepare for the worst. I cannot tell you anymore than this at this time. I cannot save her on my own, I have failed to protect her._

This should rouse Hawke for certain. How she wished she could help Isabela on her own. She couldn't involve the guards. She could not appear corrupted. It had to be Hawke. She could not go back to the chantry. They would know. He would know.

It had to be Hawke.


	6. Chapter 6

Aveline felt exposed and vulnerable. In general these days, but particularly this morning. It was a cool day outside of Kirkwall, with a stiff breeze that smelled of pine and damp earth. Dead Man's Pass was one of several passes crossing the Vimmark Mountains north of the city, leading into the mainland plains of the Free Marches. It was a long pass, often used by merchant caravans heading towards the other Marcher cities or beyond to Antiva. Aveline remembered how they had aided Javaris Tintop here, on their return from one of their many trips to Sundermount. It had started Hawke's involvement with the Arishok and his followers of the Qun.

The guard-captain rubbed her temple with irritation and the hints of a headache. She needn't fret and stress over the state of things regarding the Qunari, she had much bigger fish to fry at the moment. Like crazed blood mage slavers purging the underside of Kirkwall of the dregs, as he had called them. Aveline's hand closed around the pommel of her sword. Maybe all the raiders and giant spiders lurking in the shadows of the wilds around Kirkwall would give her a pass this early in the morning. She was in enough trouble as it was.

She had no idea what to expect. She knew he was still probing at her mind. Sometimes she felt Yuvar's disgusting tendrils of thought. She felt moments of terror whenever this happened, which seemed to please him. It was the impression she got, or maybe just her active imagination. Maybe it was the normal reaction of those he controlled. Perhaps he thrived on it, sowing the seeds of his hatred further.

Aveline walked the moderately steep path and then stopped when she heard sounds. There were people ahead. She did not let go of her sword, but slowed down her pace. Ahead of her was a merchant caravan. They had not come from Kirkwall, she would have noticed their tracks. It looked like they had travelled here and were now waiting. This was the rendezvous point. They looked like normal Marchers, ordinary traders who would not ever participate in unsavory activities. How looks were deceiving.

Their leader was a tall, balding man of rotund build. He had his thumbs behind a heavy leather belt that carried fat pouches. He stared at her suspiciously and then spit at her feet, barely missing. Finely honed skills, for certain. "That's a long way to travel for a Kirkwall city guard, isn't it?"

Aveline stood stiffly. She opened her mouth to say something, a sharp retort, but something else entirely came out. Yuvar. The bastard. "I am the city guard contact, who was sent here to inspect the business. I will make sure that no one will ever bother you. With my assistance, you might even be able to transfer goods closer to the city soon. I am the guard-captain." She spoke in this bored sound of voice that Yuvar always used. How in the Maker's name did he do this? Had he planted this beforehand? Not even thinking of Isabela was of any help. Maker, Isabela. Would she still be safe?

"He's a crafty fella, ain't he? Got the guards in the bag. How convenient." The trader looked pleased, laughing in a grating manner. His hands were unmoving as they rested against his large belly. "I thought he was supposed to be here today as well?"

She nodded to him. "He will be coming with the goods." Goods. What a ridiculous term to use, considering they were humans and elves, helpless people sold into greedy hands.

"The last batch fetched incredible prices in Antiva City. This batch will be shipped to Tevinter. It's all a good business. Keeps me well-fed for sure." The trader laughed merrily as if he was talking about the sale of fabrics, and not people. It sounded like fingernails on a chalk board to her, unpleasant, making her hair stand on end. Starkhaven, with all the power of the Chantry behind it, did not seem breed the nicest people, based on Yuvar and now this trader. She wondered what Sebastian Vael would say, if he knew of this. But then, the man was worthless to her. A Chantry boy who was driven to inactivity through belief instead of reclaiming his heritage. Aveline was so jaded about the devout now.

So much could go wrong today. Hawke could show early and ruin the rendezvous. Yuvar could arrive, find out that she had alerted someone and kill them all. Isabela could be dead already. She had not dared go back to the Chantry the last two days. She simply had not dared. He would have had the Chantry watched. She wouldn't have been able to do anything, and he would have known. Guilt and fear were her constant companion. _Isabela is strong. She will be fine_. The pirate had put so much faith in her. At the same time, she had been convinced that Yuvar wanted her dead anyway. What if he didn't bring her?

Her fear was unwarranted. From the direction Aveline had come from, there were sounds. More people arriving. The goods. Aveline stood next to the trader, keeping her mind blank, waiting. She heard them more clearly before seeing them. Wisps of song were blown to them by the wind.

 _And then the Maker sealed the gates  
Of the Golden City  
And there, He dwelled, waiting  
To see the wonders  
His children would create._

She had seen groups like this plenty of times in Kirkwall. A group of children, led by Chantry brothers and sisters, singing the Chant of Light. Did this mean they had all been blind to the slavers for such a long time? Had he trafficked this heavily? So many missing children. Yuvar was leading them, actually dressed in robes of the Chantry. Was he really a brother? He was leading about a dozen girls, two boys, and then Isabela in the back. It was a relief to see the Rivaini, but she looked grey and worn-out. She wore a different robe now, even more matronly than Hawke's robe had been. Her amber eyes, usually so full of life and spirit, were empty. No mirror to the soul, just emptiness. She sang the Threnodies chant, just like the children did.

The children were wildly varied. A lot of them looked like Fereldans, with maybe one or two elves inbetween. All of them looked starved, from a poor background, but they looked clean and also quite pretty. The oldest was maybe 14, but the majority were closer to 12-13. They meekly sang along. They clearly had no idea what to expect, what life they were heading towards.

"Here we are, my children, Maker bless you. The Chantry in Starkhaven will welcome you warmly." Yuvar sounded almost cheerful. "It is here that we must part ways, but Andraste shall guide your steps to the heart of the Maker." He herded them together, like a good shepherd, and Isabela helped him, guiding a bunch of girls by their shoulders. There was no hint of recognition on Isabela's features. Aveline's heart was crushed by this, like a fist pressing hard around it, breaking her. Did he break her mind and her spirit with blood magic, just like Quentin had broken Leandra Amell?

Yuvar joined her and the trader, embracing the other man in greeting. "Arann, glad you could make it on time today. A good day. This flock will be find a new home quite easily, won't they?" He cocked his head at Aveline. "You have met my newest partner, haven't you? Guard-captain Aveline Vallen. This will increase our options in many ways. Business will flourish."

Arann laughed deeply and clapped Yuvar on the shoulder. "Yes, brother, business will flourish. Father had no idea how resourceful you were, or you would be running the family business, not I." He removed some of the fat pouches from his belt and handed them over. "Ah, I went to Antiva City myself for the last voyage. That one gorgeous girl, prime prices, brother, prime indeed. The Madame said she would be a queen once she is properly trained. They like them young." The men laughed, and Aveline tasted bile in her throat. This was what despair felt like.

Hawke better made her appearance soon.  


* * *

Yuvar did indeed explain the business to her. Aveline didn't even know why. If his control ever slipped, she would have all the details. He had to be fully convinced that he fully had her. She didn't blame him, so far it was true. Whatever sense of freedom she had had after the Chantry, it was wiped out.

"It is quite easy. They bring them to the Chantry, where the children receive clothing, and more food than they probably had in a month. Their families think they are going to serve in the Chantry at Starkhaven. It is quite easy to coax their soft minds towards the Maker, especially the ones who still long for their families. Unfortunate that they never quite reach the Chantry in Starkhaven, but then, none of them are pure enough for the Maker's embrace." He sounded bored again, only the Maker producing some kind of feeling in his voice. It burned on Aveline's tongue to ask how these children could be considered impure, but she couldn't voice it. She merely nodded, watching him weigh a heavy pouch in his hands. Faithful and greedy. What a distasteful combination. "Not much longer, and I can leave Kirkwall behind. The city will miss my touch and the cleansing, but there are other cities that need me. Tantervale maybe, or even Ostwick. Or maybe I shall retire."

It was too much to hope for, if he was not killed today. That he would leave Kirkwall and move on. Maybe he sensed her relief, because he added "Then, it would be such folly, with so many stalwart allies on my side in Kirkwall now. I can of course not leave any of you behind when I depart. That would be foolish, and I am not a fool." His smile was thin, and his eyes were chilly, the murky depths unreadable.  


* * *

When Aveline had almost given up hope, watching the caravan prepare for departure, a familiar voice spoke up. Finally. "And where exactly do you think you're going here with those children and our friend?" Said friend did not even move when Hawke spoke up. Isabela was helping the traders pack up. Aveline heard Arann curse, and she heard the sound of blades drawn. She drew her own and prepared, ready to defend...who exactly? Yuvar. Of course. The bastard moved behind her, using her as his shield, and his shield she would be.

"These are slavers. I know this face. Danarius bought from him on our travels." Fenris snarled and pointed at a blanching Arann. "Look at that sweat running down his brow now. Dirty slaver." The former Tevinter slave was ready to move in and destroy them.

Hawke did indeed bring the best. There was Fenris, Varric in the back, and of course Merrill. A near unstoppable force. "These are only children. Almost all girls. By the creators." Merrill seemed shocked as she walked closer, but then stopped, as she saw Isabela and Aveline. Isabela blankly looked at the group, no will, no mind of her own. She didn't even seem to have any daggers on her. If she did, she'd likely protect Yuvar as well. Aveline could only look back at the elf, holding her at sword point. Merrill looked sad for a moment, then called out with urgency. "Hawke, blood magic. This man behind Aveline, he controls both her and Isabela. We must kill him." Even as she spoke, she cast her own magic, protecting herself with a layer of rock surrounding her.

Aveline felt propelled forward, to hit Merrill with her shield, to stop her from casting, and then the battle was upon them. There were more slavers than Hawke's group, but being outnumbered had never been their problem. They had faced far worse odds.

In the end, she wouldn't have been able to tell what happened. It was all a red haze as she felt Yuvar force her to defend him at any cost. She knew her companions well, and made it hard for them, but ultimately not hard enough.

How strange it was, to watch Merrill cut herself and then ensnare slavers with vines. She wreaked havoc upon them with her power, and so did Hawke, complementing her spells with those of her own. Did Merrill ever control anyone in the way Yuvar did? Aveline couldn't imagine this at all. Yet, there was the potential. Her mind was no longer so clouded. She turned around to find Yuvar fallen. Isabela was screaming, but it didn't sound like pain. It sounded like outrage and anger.

Fenris had Yuvar on the ground, choking him, and it could only be a moment until he would reach into his ribcage to rip his heart out. "Fenris, stop!" Aveline dropped her sword, and moved to him. "You don't know what this bastard has done. You have no idea how truly evil this man is." She wiped at a cut on her face. She didn't even remember how she got all those wounds, but wounded she was. One of Bianca's bolts was stuck on her left greave. It didn't matter. The man was almost dead. "Give Isabela a dagger. Let her kill him."

Aveline was on her knees, as she watched Isabela approach. "Here you go, Rivaini," she heard Varric's voice, one of Isabela's staunch friends. Isabela kneeled, right next to Aveline, looking at her. Her dark brown hair was worn in a tight bun, and her expression could only be described as wounded. She held the dagger in shaking hands. Aveline spotted cuts all over both hands, some of them looking like deep gashes. It was like being cut herself, trying to think of the pain and torture the pirate had gone through on her behalf.

Isabela touched Aveline's arm. "We hold the dagger together." Her voice was hoarse, ragged. She must have screamed a lot those past two days. She waited. Aveline took a deep breath, then put her hand over Isabela's, gently, as not to hurt her. Yuvar's face was purple, as Fenris still held him, and Merrill had him firmly ensnared by vines growing from the earth. "We hold it together, we kill him together." Isabela's hand moved, and Aveline's with her. They drove the dagger into his chest with full force of two strong arms, upwards, puncturing the lungs. Then they waited, watching the blood froth on Yuvar's lips as life drained from him when Fenris let go of his throat. Even now, he was still praying to the Maker. They drove the dagger into him again and again, until he was still.  


* * *

Some things never changed. Aveline still liked to do her paperwork in the middle of the night. The barracks were so quiet and peaceful at midnight. It was better than tossing and turning, and having nightmares. In her most vivid nightmare, in the two weeks since they destroyed the slaver ring, she was back in that chapel. Isabela was tied to a wall, and Aveline held a dagger, cutting her everywhere. She was only wearing a shift, and Aveline's dagger was razor-sharp. Yuvar watched, and he prayed, and he laughed.

Aveline would never be able to go back to the Chantry for service, ever. Forever tainted. The Maker would have to forgive her for this. She had not seen Isabela since Dead Man's Pass, had not known how to approach her.

She was so distracted that she did not even hear the sound of the door. "Are you never going home? Where do you even live?" Deja vu washed over Aveline as she looked up at the piercing gaze of Isabela. She was dressed her usual self, with her hair held back with a blue bandana, her shamelessly revealing corset, and her tall boots. She looked confident, and walked over to an armchair with her usual swagger.

Only her eyes hinted at the bruises she was bearing now. Aveline pursed her lips. "I like to work late at night. So quiet. I believe you know I actually live here in the barracks." She spoke formally, but her eyes were anything but formal. Her eyes were begging for forgiveness.

"You'll have to show me your room sometime. After all, we're intimately familiar with each other now, aren't we?" Isabela's look was hard. The words were teasing, but her gaze was stony. "I don't risk my life for just anyone, big girl. I don't risk my life for nothing."

Aveline swallowed, then opened her desk's cabinet, to retrieve two glasses and a bottle of wine. "Will you drink with me, Isabela?" The pirate merely nodded. There was silence as Aveline poured and then handed the glass of deep red wine to Isabela. When she lifted the glass to Isabela in toast and led it to her lips, it occurred to her much the wine looked like blood. Like Yuvar's blood frothing on his lips. She drank deeply, hoping in her heart that he had suffered greatly.

Isabela licked her lips after drinking, but didn't speak. She was watching Aveline. Unnerving her, laying her bare, layer by layer. The wine made her lips look even more luscious than usual. "I would like to apologize to you, Isabela. I made the biggest mistake asking for your help. In my defense, I can only say I never knew what kind of man he was. I never knew he would be such a danger to you. To us. I never knew he would torture you the way he did." Isabela's eyes were gleaming in the candlelight in the office. "I hope the sovereigns that Seneschal Bran paid you were sufficient. It's just money, but..." This was a lot more difficult than she had even thought it would be. "I can only beg your forgiveness, Isabela. I will have to live with this failure of mine for the rest of my life. I am so grateful that you live. I..."

Aveline's voice was breaking. She was not used to crying, and now she cried all the time, in the aftermath of their ordeal. She was so tired of crying. So tired of feeling like a failure.

When she looked up, a headband was dangling before her face. "I wanted to ask if I can keep this as a prize." Isabela actually smiled. The skin of her hands looked smooth and unbroken. Anders had healed it, just like he had treated the cuts on Aveline's arms. "I clung to it after you were gone. Every time I got scared, I put it on, because then I thought I would feel confident, stoic and strong, like you are. It helped me center myself." She lay it on the desk now, running a finger over it. "I think the first couple hours I wanted to rip it apart, because you had kicked me down and helped him, and took his side. Then I remembered. This was my big girl, not just anyone. He didn't seem to have that much sway over you. Maybe you would save me." She balled up the headband and held it against her chest in a fist. "It just took a lot longer than I expected."

Aveline bowed her head in shame, and then looked up. "I didn't last very long breaking his will. Long enough to inform Hawke. I could have told Hawke to break you out of the Chantry, but I didn't. I wanted to catch him red-handed. I knew what this meant for you. I failed you and myself."

Isabela shook her head. "Stop talking like that. This is not the Aveline I am used to. You saved me, Aveline. But more importantly, you saved all those girls. For fuck's sake, they ran this as a family business. Now that they have this Arann, he sang like a bird, all the details. You did the right thing. You got him, Aveline. You got that bastard."

Aveline shook her head. "No, I didn't, Isabela. We got that bastard. And it felt so damn good." The other woman nodded, and they were looking grimly at each other. Eventually, Isabela's expression softened, and she reached out to touch one of Aveline's hands. They sat there like that for a while, drinking their wine, and being silent with each other, their fingers laced.

Isabela finally spoke into the silence. "It is very difficult for me, at night. I dream. Or I cannot fall asleep because I...see him. I don't think I have had a full night's sleep since..." She bit her bottom lip. "Since holding you. I have tried to...occupy myself, but once that's done, I am just by myself, and scared again. Here's where the habit of a lifetime of sleeping alone is kicking me in the ass. It's hard."

The guard-captain let out a sigh and nodded. "I understand. Sometimes...quite often actually, I see you at night, and I hurt you and...it's just miserable and heart-breaking. It all went against everything I stand for, Isabela. This is why I sit here every night, working until I am too exhausted. At least that's hours spent not dreaming."

Isabela rose at this in one smooth motion. She rounded the desk full of determination. Without much thought to it, she pushed Aveline back in her chair, and then easily slid into her lap, straddling her. She was all softness against the hard steel of the plate armor. A hand caressed Aveline's face, and this time, Isabela did press her lips against Aveline's. Not just a gentle finger, but her less gentle lips. Both hands held Aveline's face now, against her own, and they kissed deeply. It was not a kiss like Aveline had ever experienced before. Isabela's lips were so luscious, so soft, and yet so hungry. She kissed with fire and experience. She kissed like she wanted to absorb their pain, their nightmares, their loneliness, and replace it with nothing but incandescent pleasure.

When they broke their kiss to breathe, the two women gazed at each other. Isabela's eyes were filled with longing. Aveline was torn, her heart was aching. The kiss had been so bittersweet. Her body had certainly responded to Isabela, full of curiosity, yet she didn't know if it was the right path for her. Did she love Isabela? Isabela leaned down to trace a line of kisses from her jaw to her neck. Each touch of her lips burned like fire on every nerve ending. Aveline closed her eyes. She didn't need to love Isabela like she had loved her husband. It was a different kind of love, that's what it was. "Let me show you my room," she said. She tried to say it casually, with levity, but for some reason her voice was shaking.

They were silent as Aveline led them through the quiet barracks. The doors muffled the snores of some of the guards that slept in their bunks in adjoining rooms. The captain's suite was far back, relatively private. No one had ever joined her here since it was assigned to her. No one. Ever. Did Isabela really have to talk her into admitting she was lonely when it was so obvious?

She locked the door behind her as Isabela skimmed the room with her eyes. "I don't think you spend much time here." The anteroom was bare. Basic furniture. A painting of some rustic Fereldan scenery. A rug that had been given as present by Leandra. Isabela picked up a book and then chuckled. "Here I thought it might be one of Varric's. No 'Hard in Hightown' for you, huh? Military formations through the ages. How boring. I need to gift you some books." She put the book back down, and then held her hands out to Aveline. "Show me the rest."

The rest wasn't much either. Through a door, they reached the bedroom. The bed was the only fancy piece of furniture she had ever allowed herself. It might even rival Hawke's canopied bed by sheer size alone. Thick blankets, fluffy pillows. Wide enough for two. Never used by two. She had once had the fleeting thought that guardsman Donnic would share it with her, but that was another endeavor she had failed at.

"You are scared. Nervous. Or both." Isabela squeezed her hand, then let go, drifting about the room. She stood by the bed, then turned to face Aveline, speaking with fire in her voice. "Will it reassure you that I will never tell anyone? I can tell you it would be meaningless. Or that it would be meaningful, if that'll put you more at ease. I have often referred to it as rutting, but that's not what I am looking for, Aveline. I also don't want a pity fuck." She took a deep breath and rolled her eyes, as if she had seconds thoughts about being here right this moment. "Do you even realize that you know more about me than just about anyone else? I have slept with Hawke, and she knows nothing about me. I have slept with so many. After all I am nothing but a whore. Yet they know nothing. You do." One of her hands reached down to touch the soft quilt covering Aveline's bed. "I want you to come into this of your own free will. I want you to want me. I want you to come seeking oblivion in my arms so that I can find the same. I am not sure I will find peace in any other way. It can't be on the terms I usually use." She tilted her head. "We're not the kind of women who would do things unwillingly. I think we had enough of that, didn't we?"

Aveline nodded her head and then closed the distance between them. "We did. But...yes, I am scared. Scared but willing. Rusty hinge, remember?" She smiled shakily and Isabela actually laughed.

"Come on, you have to admit, it was a good line. Besides, I have heard that I am good at...oiling rusty hinges." Isabela smiled crookedly, and touched a cool hand to Aveline's burning cheeks. "I admire you, Aveline. Never forget that. Part of me will always wish I were more like you. I don't know if I'll ever be as loyal as you are." She looked pained for a moment. "I can't even promise that I won't betray you and the others for selfish gain for myself. I hope I would not, but...I am not you." She kneeled and started unbuckling Aveline's greaves. Her hands had experience with the way the armor worked. Aveline's questioning glance was answered with "You're not the first guard I have...undressed."

Aveline tilted her head. "Part of me will always wish I was more like you. Not as narrow-minded. More daring. Less boring. You are so free, Isabela. I have never known any freedom like yours. You are the most confident woman I know, more confident than Hawke even." She inhaled sharply when Isabela removed the chestpiece. She reverently set it aside, then ran her hands over Aveline's shoulders, arms and chest.

The armor was placed on the rack that sat next to the bed. They didn't speak while Isabela worked the many buckles. She finally unwrapped Aveline's rust-colored scarf and took a step back. The guard-captain wore a padded shift underneath all that armor, and thin pants to protect the legs from chafing. Even though she was still dressed, she felt naked already.

 _Seize the moment_. Aveline clumsily stepped forward, placing her hands on Isabela's shoulders. She was out of her depth, confused and torn. Isabela's kisses had made the heat in her unbearable. She wanted to come to the pirate of her free will. This was actually worse than her wedding night. She hadn't been so nervous then. What did women even...do with each other? She pressed her lips against Isabela's with no finesse whatsoever, with a dominance she didn't feel. It made the Rivaini step back and laugh. "Relax, big girl. I will take care of you. Let me."

And she did. Soon she was fully undressed. So was Isabela. Aveline's eyes widened when she took in the shapes and curves of the Rivaini's body. Lush was one of the many pleasant words that came to mind.

Before Isabela sealed her lips with another kiss, the pirate laughed in delight. "You weren't kidding. You don't look too bad naked. In fact, you look exquisite." Aveline didn't even have the time to blush.

Exquisite was a good term to use around Isabela. She kissed Aveline with great skill. The guard hadn't known lips could be so soft. She tasted the wine they had shared earlier. She started gently at first, but within mere moments, the world was spinning around Aveline and all blood rushed downwards. She clung to the Rivaini, running her hands through the other woman's hair. How strange it felt to have so much softness against her. Everything was soft and warm. Her tongue was moving in slow strokes, first gently, then ever more deeply, until their kisses were hungry and breathless. They left her wanting for more.

Isabela placed her on the bed, hovering above her. She smiled down at Aveline's overly serious face. "Relax," she whispered again, then removed Aveline's headband. She ran her hands through the ginger hair, spreading it out across the pillows. It was a stark contrast to the pale, freckled skin. "You look like milk, like clotted cream. So delicious." She lapped at the supple skin of her neck playfully, shooting sparks through Aveline's nerves. She touched the warrior's upper arms, felt the strong muscles. "You are such a study in contrasts. Such strength, such litheness." Aveline's arms flexed under the touch, so sensitive under the pirate's fingers. Isabela's fingers dug in harder. "Like alabaster. Lovely. At the same time, so very soft." Her roving fingers reached the cleft between her breasts, gently stroking the swell. "I want to taste it all."

Everything else was a blur after those words. Or not even blurred, sometimes time seemed to slow, came to a stop. Isabela kept looking at her, and Aveline could not avert her eyes. She watched how the other woman discovered everything about her, leaving no inch of skin untouched, none unkissed. Their gazes locked frequently. Isabela was taking it extremely slow, always holding back, waiting for Aveline to ask her to go on or provide other signs of encouragement. "Smile for me," she would say, tendrils of dark hair sticking to her damp forehead. Aveline smiled as bidden, until it all become too much for her. At one point she threw her arm over her eyes because she was overwhelmed. Isabela did not let her avert her eyes. A strong hand moved her arm, then pinned her down. "Are you ready for me?" All Aveline had for her was a wordless moan.

If she thought she was overwhelmed before, Aveline now learned a whole new meaning for the term. She did not know if she had ever been ready for an experience like this. As her climax rippled through her in waves, she heard her own voice scream in the distance. By the time she was spent, Isabela had already changed to a different tune. She played her like a harp, with the touch of gentle fingers, stroking relentlessly. The second time she found release, she found she screamed even more. Finally, she had to struggle, to hold Isabela's face between her hands, to kiss and taste herself on the other woman's lips to make her stop. "Enough," she begged, pressing her forehead against Isabela's. "Enough. I think I just died a million times over." Isabela looked at her with luminous eyes, causing Aveline to look at her with a tremulous smile. "I didn't know dying felt amazing like that."

In time, Aveline learned how to touch Isabela that night. First with clumsy hands, then with more confidence, aided by the fact that the Rivaini was very vocal. It was not difficult to find out how to please her. It even was a fun game of itself to not give in to her demands and tease her slowly. Aveline couldn't remember anything the like from her marriage to Wesley. In fact, he seemed positively boring now, Maker bless his memory. Aveline's heart was overflowing with emotion and thudding hard in her chest when Isabela shook in her arms, looking up at her with a softness that was touching. The softness was fleeting, but they both knew that the guard-captain had seen it.

"Can I stay?" Isabela sounded vulnerable as she asked this question, even while wrapped around Aveline.

The other shook her head and quirked a smile. "That's not a question. I wouldn't let you go. Let me protect you." Aveline had failed at this once, and never meant to again. Isabela tucked her head under Aveline's chin and curled up against her, her arms and legs thrown over her. Their limbs were fully entangled. Aveline couldn't remember ever feeling this glowing with a joy that transcended the physical.

They were safe from nightmares that night. When Aveline woke the next morning, she felt more relaxed than in years. Just after dawn, she had been woken by Isabela, who ardently made love to her again before leaving. They made no promises when she left. _No one need ever know_ , she said. She said she might be back.

Aveline did not mind that one bit.


End file.
